


In Which Bruises Provoke Remarkable Consequences

by sixappleseeds



Series: The Evolution of Pynch [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Ronan shows up with bruises on his neck. Adam's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Bruises Provoke Remarkable Consequences

The first time Gansey noticed the marks on Ronan’s neck, he’d stopped mid-sentence and touched them.

“What’s this?” From the back seat, Adam watched Gansey’s fingers press gently against Ronan’s skin.

“None of your business,” Ronan growled. The Camaro’s vinyl creaked as Ronan shifted away and leaned his head against the passenger window. By that time, the light had changed. Gansey shook his head and let the Pig go.

.

That night in his bed on the floor of a stuffy attic apartment, Adam tried to forget how Blue had stood in here just a few weeks ago and said she wouldn’t kiss him. He tried to forget, and the more he tried the more he could see it. Images flashed, real and not-real, Blue’s face and shadow-men in bowler caps and Cabeswater and ---

_What had Ronan sounded like?_

Adam blinked. The thought remained, more articulate now for his acknowledging it: What kind of sound had Ronan made, when whoever he’d been kissing gave him bruises like that? 

He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t picture Ronan - _Ronan_ \- kissing anyone. 

And then he did. 

.

The second time Gansey noticed the marks, this time on Ronan’s collarbone, he’d frowned but kept talking.

“Maura Sargent’s Artemus and Glendower are connected,” Gansey said, tapping his journal. From across the table, Adam stared at Ronan staring at his hands. A half-finished pizza lay on a tray in the middle of the table. Blue had just refilled their iced teas. And Ronan had marks on his skin.

Adam couldn’t tell if Gansey was being deliberately obtuse, or if he really didn’t know what happened when someone kissed and bit someone else’s skin. He didn’t think Gansey, even Gansey, could be that out of it. 

Adam stared, decided they looked more like scratches, red welts smearing out from under the strap of Ronan’s shirt, and kept staring. 

“Take a picture, Parrish, it’ll last longer.” 

Adam’s eyes darted up to meet Ronan’s. He saw Ronan’s slow smile, the kind that said, _I could break you if I wanted_. Adam looked away. His ears were burning.

Gansey cleared his throat loudly, and kept talking. Even if Gansey hadn’t been seated to Adam’s left, even if Nino’s wasn’t filled with noise already, Adam wouldn’t have heard a word he said.

.

That night in his bed on the floor of St. Agnes, Adam couldn’t fall asleep. He listened to the katydids and crickets outside, to the wind rustling in the trees; he cocooned himself in a blanket against the breeze through the window; he rolled over, he rolled over again, and he sighed. 

“Man, what is up with you tonight?” On a ground pad next to Adam’s mattress Ronan sat up on one elbow. His own blanket was tucked around his shoulder. Adam watched it fall as Ronan shifted to peer down at him. 

He might have said, _I’m sorry_. A month ago maybe, two months ago certainly, he would have. _I’m sorry for keeping you awake. I’m sorry for making you mad. I’m sorry for taking up too much space._

He also might have said, _Fuck you_. This was Adam’s more recent response to life, even if he did not often voice it out loud. _Fuck you, for pretending that you care. Fuck you, like I need your pity. Fuck you. I am handling this on my own._

Instead, he said nothing, merely stared back. The moment stretched, seemed to pulse with the beat of the katydids’ song, as Adam gazed up at Ronan, gazing down at Adam. Something changed in that moment, and neither of Adam’s typical responses was relevant at all. A car drove by outside; its headlights tracked white stripes across the ceiling. He thought he saw Ronan shiver.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, only that it was after midnight and very dark and things were different after dark, Adam reached up a hand and brushed the marks on Ronan’s collarbone. He watched Ronan close his eyes. He let his fingers trail along those scratches, felt that they were warm compared to the coolness of Ronan’s skin. He watched Ronan swallow. He pressed his hand against the side of Ronan’s throat, suddenly, because he knew if he stopped to think he’d stop all of this ---

Ronan’s pulse pounded against his palm. 

Adam heaved himself up, shifting so his right hand was braced on Ronan’s shoulder, and his left on the mattress, and pressed his mouth to Ronan’s neck just where those first bruises had been. Ronan gasped, and Adam _felt it_ , in his fingers and in his lips and in his own chest, because now Ronan’s arms were clutched around him, and his around Ronan. Ronan buried his head in the crook of Adam’s shoulder, and when Adam ran his nails down Ronan’s back, Adam felt his gasp again.

“Jesus, Parrish,” Ronan managed. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Adam wondered what it would take to get Ronan to say his name. _Adam_. “Oh, I’m full of surprises,” he murmured. He had no idea skin could be so sensitive. Every breath that brought his chest to Ronan’s was an explosion in sensation, and the slide of skin against skin, of breath against skin, was incredible. He brought his mouth to Ronan’s ear, just to see what would happen if he touched his tongue --- _yessss_ , he thought as Ronan made a tiny noise and hauled Adam closer. 

Adam pulled back for long enough to swing his legs around Ronan’s hips and sit on his lap. He ran his hands up Ronan’s shoulders, marveling in that cool, taught skin. With the tips of his fingers he brushed the back of Ronan’s head and realized with delight that the stubble of his shaved head was soft as fleece there. He gazed down at Ronan’s face. Ronan looked wild, desperate, and euphoric. His hands gripped Adam’s hips, and he was open as Adam had never seen him before. All at once Adam felt powerful, exhilaratingly powerful. But it wasn’t Washington power. It wasn’t even Cabeswater power. Later, Adam would realize it was the sort of power you could earn when someone trusts you completely, and lays themselves utterly bare before you. Later, Adam would anguish over betraying that trust, and worry about how he could possibly deserve it. 

But for now, what he said was, “I’d like to kiss you, Ronan.”

Ronan cursed eloquently and poetically and ended with, “Yes, God, Adam, _please_.” 

When Adam brought his mouth down to meet Ronan’s, he groaned, and Adam felt himself smile. 

.

The third time Gansey noticed the marks on Ronan’s neck, he’d snarled. “Good God, Lynch, you wear that like it’s a fucking badge of honor. It’s disgusting.”

There was a little silence. Blue and Noah, already standing by the Camaro in Monmouth’s parking lot, paused in their conversation. Blue looked shocked, Adam noted (a part of him thought nastily, _Of course she would_ ). Noah grinned like Gansey had just told a clever joke instead. 

With studied deliberateness Ronan pulled aside the collar of his Aglionby uniform and tiled his head. “Oh,” he drawled. “You mean this old thing?” The mark, a big and unambiguous bruise, was just under his jawline; the shirt and sweater weren’t hiding a thing. “It’s the latest in my collection.” His grin was knife-sharp and filled with teeth. 

“I thought you didn’t do casual relationships,” Gansey said. The way he said “casual relationships” sounded like the way another might’ve said “pond scum,” or “horse shit.” 

“I don’t,” Ronan said. He adjusted his collar and walked to the Camaro. “And your sexual frustration is not my problem. Are we leaving or not?”

As everyone piled into the Pig, Adam let himself smile just a little. Noah, in the middle seat next to him, waggled his eyebrows and winked. 

.

That night in his attic apartment above St Agnes, Adam slammed Ronan against the wall. “Take them off, take them off, _take off your clothes_ ,” he growled against Ronan’s mouth. His fists were bunched on Ronan’s sweater and he tugged until he felt the fabric tear. 

“I’m trying,” Ronan muttered back. Adam ground his hips into Ronan’s, and began kissing his neck. “But it’s hard when you’re plastered all over me.” 

“You love it,” Adam hissed into Ronan’s ear.

“Yes,” Ronan agreed. “Yes, I do.” He yanked his sweater over his head while Adam applied himself to Ronan’s belt. As Ronan unbuttoned his shirt - they’d ripped the previous one so badly Ronan was careful, now - Adam fell to his knees, jerking Ronan’s trousers down with him. 

They both paused for a moment. Ronan leaned against the wall, tie loose around his neck, shirt hanging open. Adam gazed up at him, and loosened his own tie under his sweater. Ronan was panting. Soon, Adam thought. He traced an old bruise over Ronan’s hip, and then slid his fingernail, hard, down to Ronan’s groin. Ronan moaned, and it was the most delicious sound Adam had ever heard. He watched Ronan’s cock jump, saw Ronan press his fists behind him, against the wall. 

“I’m going to swallow you whole,” Adam said. He kissed the point of Ronan’s hipbone lightly. “I’m going to suck you dry.” He kissed the other hip, licked it, and then bit down. Ronan’s knees buckled. Adam caught him, hands gripping Ronan’s pelvis, as Ronan swore. “Jesus fucking Christ please, Adam, _please_.” 

_Yes_ , Adam thought. _This is what I want_. “If Gansey asks again, what are you gonna say?”

“That it’s you,” Ronan gasped. “That I’m yours.”

Adam smiled, and set to work.


End file.
